A handful of gin
by Sherry Furude
Summary: Collection of five-sentece drabbles starred by Gin. GinSherry mention in the second one.
1. Singer

**DISCLAIMER: **I do **not** own _Detective Conan_. The entire series, including its characters, belong to **Gosho Aoyama**. This is a **non-profit fan work**.

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**2nd disclaimer: **This fic was written for **Poirot Cafe's Five Sentence Stories** prompt.

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**Singer**

Gin could still hear his own fast-paced pulse when he reached the table he had been sitting at for the last thirty minutes.

'Time to leave,' he announced.

Vodka turned as he heard Gin's voice. He nodded and stood up, and the two left the club at the very moment that the singer walked onto the stage in her low-necked dress.

The corpse of a high-ranked executive would be found laying on the ground of the men's bathroom ten minutes later.

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**Author's notes:**

Hello! ¡Hola! Salut! Hallo! Konnichiwa! Here comes Sherry Furude once more, ready for attack!

Once more, this fic was born thanks to the forum Poirot Cafe. I found it very interesting, and I liked how I could be (and was at points) a challenge to me, so I gave it a try and... here it is the result. I wrote it all before I had lunch, in about one hour or so. I had to think a lot! Having such lenght restriction can make writing very hard, at least to me.

The title of each drabble is a word I got from an online random word generator and forced myself to add, as a way to make the challenge 'harder' and also give myself something to start with. On the other hand, the title of the fic itself is some kind of 'word game'. The 'gin' of the title obviously refers to Gin, the protagonist of these drabbles (by the way, they were initially going to revolve around GinSherry, but I later decided to focus on Gin alone instead - although the second one contains some GinSherry, and yes, there is a reason Gin thinks of her as 'Shiho' and not 'Sherry'). And then there's 'handful'. A hand (usually) has five fingers, doesn't it? And these drabbles consist of exactly **five** sentences... and they are exactly **five** drabbles (yes, this last part is something you can blame me for). So that's it.

I hope you like this fic, even if it's short. I will be very glad to read your opinions. And if you want more like this, do not be afraid to ask for it! Besides, as I always say (and mean), I encourage you to tell me of any spelling, grammar or punctuation mistake you may find. I want to improve my writing as much as I can.

Lots of love and see you next time,

Sherry F.


	2. Fashion

**Fashion**

It was late and he was tired, and the apartment was completely quiet. But as he walked towards his bedroom, something caught his eye: a single fashion magazine, laying next to the TV.

Gin looked down at it and felt a pain in his chest.

Shiho was gone now and would never come back, not after what he had done to her.

He reached the magazine and let the tears fall silently.


	3. Sedative

**Sedative**

Gin looked at his bandaged arm and let out a curse. The effects of the sedative had faded away but he was still in pain, even if the wound didn't bleed anymore. He sighed and let his head fall on the aseptic, white pillow. At least, the Organization had good doctors.

He closed his green eyes and slowly fell asleep.


	4. Manners

**Manners**

He knew some manners, of course he did. They were among the things his mother had taught him: to be polite, to be kind, to treat others respectfully. He could act like a true gentleman, only that he didn't very often. His work didn't leave any room for manners.

After all, ending a human life was pretty rude, wasn't it?


	5. Dinner

**Dinner**

The streets were pretty crowded that night. Gin rode his black Porsche past happy people having a late dinner, couples and friends hanging out at the dead of the artificially bright night and citizens of all ages having some fun at the city center. Moving his right hand away from the steering wheel for a moment, he lighted a cigarette and held it between his lips. He then unbuttoned his coat and let himself relax, if only a bit.

Carried away by the scent of blood and gunpowder that started to be covered by that of smoke, he wondered what it would feel like to have a normal life.


End file.
